by Unknown (13th Century)
There are little traits that keep me bound...
I think of nothing else save the bright face of my lady-
Ah me! Her swan-white throat, her strong chin,
Her fresh laughing mouth which daily seems to say,
"Come kiss me, love, kiss me once again!
Her regal nose, her smiling grey eyes-
(That thieve to steal a lovers heart)-
And her brown tresses that wildly fly.
Each have wounded me as with a dart
So amorous are these that I deem they will slay me.
Ah God, ah God! Alas, who will save me?
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